


Up In Smoke

by joufancyhuh



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cigarettes, Focuses on OC, M/M, Month of Fanfiction, References Shepard's death over Alchera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-26 21:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12067698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Reese searches for a way to move past Shepard's death.





	Up In Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizDirected](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizDirected/gifts).



> Month of Fanfiction: Day 24: Challenge From Someone Else
> 
> The Challenge:  
> MizDirected's Challenge: Minimum 1000 word story written without any be verbs or adverbs.
> 
> Potionmaster's Challenge: Reese taking up smoking after Mark's death. Mark belongs to her.
> 
> The full universe has been scrapped but feel free to enjoy this bit from it in the meantime.

Reese never set out to get addicted.

The heavy menthol in the stranger’s kiss swirled his thoughts with the lingering smoke of the ashed cigarette. When Reese pulled back to stop the vacuum in his lungs, he expected to find Mark’s familiar smirk, half-lidded cobalt blues flickering between his lips and eyes.

Grey steel greeted him, an unabashed smile on the foreign face. And Reese needed to remind himself of carrying Mark’s tags to Mindoir, the cold from that day penetrating his spine once again. Mark died above Alchera, suffocating and burning to the ground as he fell into the planet’s atmosphere.

It unnerved him that he lapsed, forgetting for a second that Shepard died. As he left the unfamiliar apartment the next morning, he nicked a cigarette off the nightstand.

Mark's eyes blazed with each light, a reflection of fire mixing with the clear blue. At night as they sat on the roof above the Wards, it raged like a beacon, drawing Reese into him. Mark sometimes shotgunned him, blowing smoke from his mouth into Reese’s before leaning over for a kiss.

Mark smoked to calm his nerves, less suction than just letting it burn out between his fingers. Reese's nerves sat on edge around it, a kind of unbidden comfortability in the action.

Reese forgot about the stolen cigarette in his jacket pocket for a month until he found himself in a seedy bar down on Terra Nova, digging for information about the ship that destroyed the SR-1. The bar reeked of bad alcohol and cigarette smoke, peanut shells crushing under the heels of his boots as he walked.

His fingers found the loose cigarette in his pocket when he shoved his hands inside to keep them from twisting in his lap. He dragged it out and played with it in both hands, the rod fragile from knocking around in a tight space.

“Need a light?”

A tall man to his left raised his black lighter as he slunk into the empty chair.

Reese shook his head, setting the cigarette down on the counter. “I don’t smoke.”

“You sure? Why carry that around then?”

Reese couldn’t reply with an honest answer, but when he stood up to leave with that man later in the night, his eyes glanced back to the single cigarette sitting on the counter. He polished off the remaining beer in his glass and after a moment’s hesitation, shoved the cigarette back into his jacket pocket.

The question of why rolled around in his brain. What purpose did the cigarette serve? A constant reminder of his dead CO? A traveling memorial? He needed to let go, move on.

When the paper on the tobacco rod tore, Reese accepted it. The time to throw it away came at last, a chance to push past whatever sentimentality he held for the thing. He grumbled as he picked the remnants out of the lining that stained his fingers a dirty brown.

But when his next lover didn’t smoke, Reese found himself missing the taste of it, a kiss more hollow than usual. Reese took to searching out companions who lingered in alleys next to bars, who smelled of bad decisions and screwed with a laziness that increased the ache in him.

He bought his first pack of cigarettes with his next round of groceries, finding himself staring at the colorful boxes on the wall. It reminded him of his first venture with condoms, the same confusion with brands that applied to smokes.

He picked out a green pack, a picture of a camel on the front, and a lighter with cartoon hearts decorating it for lack of a better choice.

He lit it as he stood outside, waiting for a cab to come and collect him and his defrosting food. It burned between his thumb and forefinger, ash building up until it fell in a clump to the ground. He couldn’t find it in himself to bring it to his lips and inhale.

The ember inside the roll of tobacco burned like a level of hell, turning Reese's stomach into knots. Mark's personal hell that he relived each time he burned one, now Reese's own to carry.

His next bar hop, he tried again, leaning his back against the wall as he cuffed his hand over the tip, the filter dangling from between his lips.

He sputtered as smoke poured down his throat, spitting the cigarette out of his mouth and onto the asphalt below.

Another smoker laughed at Reese’s reaction. “First time?”

Reese grinned through his coughing fit, making eye contact with the shorn-haired man. “What gave it away?”

The man shrugged and lit his own before holding it out to Reese. “Word of advice: everyone hates Camels. Try this instead.”

Reese glanced from the out held cigarette to the stranger. Their hands brushed as Reese plucked it from him, holding it up to his mouth and inhaling.

“Don’t swallow, just breathe it out.”

When Reese didn’t end up in another coughing fit, his new friend gave him a congratulatory smile. “Good. See how smooth? You might as well throw yours away.”

Reese made sure to snake a few from the man’s pack on his way out the next morning, lighting up on his walk back to the hotel. He repeated the brand name to himself until he passed a corner store.

The menthol tingled inside his mouth as his thoughts drifted back to Mark’s tongue, warm and wet, intertwined with his as hands cupped his butt over his jeans.

Reese didn’t deny the weird of the situation, how he might come off as a little unstable if he ever explained why he started out loud.

Each cigarette attached itself to a memory of his ex-lover, knocking him away from the real world and back into the past, one where Mark's chest rose and fell with each draw of breath.

The best way to smoke, he discovered, involved letting it drift out of his mouth unhindered, rolling out into the air like a thick white haze that enveloped him as he drifted.

His smoking habits shifted from occasion to four-a-day. It paired well with coffee, he discovered, but not very well with orange juice. Great for keeping his hands busy, but not when he needed to carry supplies to and from the office.

He learned to keep cologne on him for meetings with his superiors, masking the scent of his guilty pleasure. A breath mint or two next to the packs in his pocket. A collection of lighters scattered around whenever he rested his head.

When the Alliance sent him to serve on the DP-R Marathon, Reese discovered his addiction.

His shakes kicked in, hands unsteady as he held his morning cup of coffee. He bought nicotine patches their next layover and the shakes stopped, his mind clearing each time he stuck one onto his shoulder. It didn't bring the memories, but it grew too late to stop by then.

He didn’t mean to get addicted. To Mark or the cigarettes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I could kill Kim for this. Ugh. 
> 
> Reese Graham (Shepard) belongs to me. Mark Shepard belongs to Potions. 
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated and loved.


End file.
